


With Blood and With Time

by allfireburns



Series: Tumbling After [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Introspection, POV Third Person, Season/Series 02, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfireburns/pseuds/allfireburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of these days, he's going to be okay with her walking away...</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Blood and With Time

Monogamy's always seemed quaint to Jack. Archaic, even - it was where and when he grew up, at least, though of course he's had the entirety of the twentieth century to get used to it in a passing, "got nothing to do with me" context.

He's even developed rules, just to make life easier for himself. Not that he won't break them, given the right circumstances, but they're guidelines, at least.

Staying the hell away from married people is the big thing. In the fifty-first century, sure, fine, whatever. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, he's learned it can lead to more trouble than it's really worth. Took being shot twice, once fatally, for him to come up with that rule.

But now, right now, Gwen looking up at him with those big brown eyes over the engagement ring on her finger, false innocence all over her face, he wants so badly to say to hell with the rule, and damn the consequences.

He kisses her cheek instead of her lips, even as she turns her head toward him just a little, and he lets it linger for just a second too long. Because from this moment, he's backing down. There are rules about married people.

* * *

This is an all too familiar scene, and Jack tries not to think about these things, because he's had a long life, and there are so many things bound to bring back memories. Except that watching Gwen walking out to Rhys on the CCTV monitor in his office, he's not sure if he's really seeing _Gwen_, or someone else.

He keeps thinking he ought to be watching it on a somewhat smaller screen, in a room all green and gold, that the girl on the screen ought to be blond, not dark-haired...

That was a century and a half ago, or two and a half years, depending on how you count, but he's still seeing it, and doesn't know which girl he's really seeing. And he's feeling the same sense of vague possessiveness and indefinable loss, watching her walk away, even knowing she'll come back. Slowly, Jack leans over to switch off the monitor, and closes his eyes.

One of these days, he decides, he's going to be okay with her walking away. But not just yet.

* * *

Jack has rules about married people, but the thing is, he's never been the best at following rules, even when they're his own. Maybe especially when they're his own - after all, there's no one to call him on it.

He looks up as the door to the Hub from the tourist center rolls open, expecting Ianto, and frowns when he sees Gwen instead.

"Thought you were still on your honeymoon," he says, rising to his feet and moving to stand in his office door, leaning against the door frame. Gwen jumps, like she wasn't expecting him - it crosses his mind that she really should know better by now.

After the initial surprise, she smiles, starting toward him, stopping just short, by Owen's desk. "We got back earlier today. I just wanted to stop by and..."

"Make sure no one's died or lost any limbs?" he suggests, and Gwen grins.

"Something like that."

"Everyone's alive and in one piece. Well, I died once, but..."

"Well, I don't care about _you_," Gwen says teasingly, smile turning a bit wicked. Jack can't help but laugh.

"Yeah. So, how was the trip?"

"Jack. Do you really want to hear about my trip? I promise no aliens were involved."

"Not really. Just seemed polite to ask." He pushes himself out of the door frame and strides toward her, stopping maybe a little too close. "We missed you here."

Gwen's silent for a moment, then asks softly, "Did you now?"

Jack reaches out to take her hand lightly, fingertips playing over her palm. "Well, when I say 'we'..."

The door opens again, and this time it _is_ Ianto. Jack doesn't release her hand, but Gwen pulls it back quickly, guiltily, like she's been caught doing something _wrong_. Jack frowns at her momentarily before remembering where they are. When they are. Who she is.

Maybe he doesn't need to try and follow his own rules. Maybe there isn't a need for those rules at all, when stupid 21st century monogamy has the same end result.

* * *

The Hub feels too empty. Too quiet. Realistically, it's no more empty than it would be on any normal night, and there are more people here than there actually are most of the time at this time of morning, but everyone's keeping their distance. Ianto's cleaning the blood from the medical bay, and the air smells of bleach on top of the usual tang of salt air. John's sitting in Jack's office, out of the way, after making a promise Jack doesn't believe not to touch anything.

And Gwen's curled up in a chair in the boardroom, knees pulled up to her chest and shaking a little. Her hair's still wet from a shower to clean off the blood and sweat and more blood, but Jack's fairly certain it's not cold she's shaking from.

He stops by the boardroom after calling Rhys to ask him to come by and take Gwen home. Stepping inside the room, Jack waits just inside the doorway until Gwen notices him and looks up. Even after her shower, her eyes are red from crying.

He doesn't ask if she's alright. None of them are. Instead, he walks over, pulls up a chair next to hers, and reaches out to lightly touch her hand. She takes it, fingers trembling, and he pulls her toward him, inch by inch, until some final resistance snaps and she lunges forward to cover the remaining distance between them, shifting quickly from her chair to his lap.

Jack draws a breath. For a second, it's not Gwen in his arms, it's Tosh, smaller and lighter and bleeding, dying. For a second it's Rose, going from protesting that she's fine to unconscious in his arms in the blink of an eye. He draws another breath, presses his lips to the top of her head, breathes in the scent of soap and shampoo and _Gwen_, and it's her again, her breathing soft and halting and fighting back tears.

He pulls her a little closer to him, rocks her gently, and promises silently, against all history and likelihood, that he's not going to lose her to anything but old age after a long, happy life. It's a pleasant fantasy to entertain, if only for a moment.


End file.
